The Six
by CountlessTales
Summary: The tales of the six humans, so often forgotten, belittled only to souls.
1. Integrity

**Integrity**

Waterfall was truly beautiful. The cascading pillars of water from the distant cavern ceiling, embraced by darkness less sparkling teal gems and scattered lanterns. spoke wonderful calmness. The stream beside her glowed a soft blue as she hopped quietly from rock to rock, barely making a sound as she moved. Ever since she had left the Ruins she had kept to herself, watching the monsters from the distance, avoiding their sight. The odd creature who did strike up a fight with her was left untouched and confounded as she leapt nimbly around their attacks, never considering striking back.

She had been raised right, and she sure as hell wasn't going to change that now.

A long, flat room panned out in front of the child. A stream meandered lazily through it's centre, casting an eerie light upon the cave. Plumes of grass rose from the floor, tall enough to serve as a hiding spot she mused, still prancing softly across the stones. She peeked inside one of the taller thickets, pushing fronds covered with small beetles and spiders aside, a worn flyer fluttering past her leg. For a moment, the rustling of the grass in her hands, combined with the seemingly unearthly ambience of the cavern pulsed a wonderful serenity into the girl, and her situation didn't seem so bad. For a moment.

" _Human...don't you dare move...a muscle."_ A raspy, claustrophobic voice called out from behind her.

She froze, an icy breeze flowing up her back, her breath running shallow. This monster was different, she could feel it.

" _Good...you at least know how to follow orders….Now….turn around….slowly."_

She released her grasp on the fronds, and gently turned on her heel. Before her stood a lightly armoured knight, red robes flowing from a hood down to below his knees. In each hand sat a glowing orange rapier. Their eyes met, his cold stare holding no semblance of mercy.

" _Human...I am a member of the Royal Guard….King_ _ **ASGOREs**_ _personal human hunting force."_

Her lip quivered, mind racing as the man before her took a step forward, a hunch making each step unpredictable. Her hand reached behind her, feeling the grass once more, praying that they be her escape.

" _My….orders are clear...you are the real enemy."_

Beneath his hood, she began to notice the grim semblance of a smile forming, a smile that breathed pure malice.

" _So...stand still while I…"_

And she was gone. the grass gave a slight crinkle as she pushed, kicked and forced her way through it, becoming entangled, and escaping each and every time. Her elegance of movement had disappeared, this was survival. Her heart beat fast, mouth ran dry, tormented by the sounds of the guards laughter, laughter that seemed to come from all around her. Finally she was free of the thicket, sprinting towards a cave mouth, beyond which glowing crystals called.

Three steps away.

Two steps away.

One step away.

The cavern glowed a deep orange for a moment as the guards rapiers appeared in the opening, interlocking into a large 'X', blocking the passage. She ground to a halt, tripping and falling backwards less she touch the blades. The guard emerged from the grass, still roaring with stilted, grating laughter.

" _Well wasn't that….exciting?"_ He taunted. " _Sadly, all good things….must come to an end. Goodbye human….you will not be missed."_

The rapiers appeared back in his hands, as he brought them in a large curving arc towards her. She rolled desperately out of the way, and was back on her feet...cornered.

She stopped, thinking about hitting back, thought about striking down this truly evil creature. She thought about why she was here now, and shook her head. Arms outstretched, she posed herself elegantly back onto the tips of her shoes, staring him down.

His smile only became more hateful.

So it continued. He would attack, putting all of his hate, all of his frustration into each blow, and she would simply avoid it, prancing out of the way at the last moment, before striking back with only a pose. The symphony of the cavern was all the music she needed, the calming stream and gems far above her audience, her Integrity her guide.

Blow after blow missed its mark. Try as he might, he could never quite strike her. He tried feinting, out stepping, charging, but each and every time she could avoid him. His fury only grew, his face twisting into a grim facade of wrath, his stamina...dropping.

She could see him getting tired. His swings began losing power, his face ran with sweat, his steps shorter and his breathing shallower. But still she managed to outmaneuver everything, no hint of fatigue playing upon her mind.

Then it happened. He missed a final sweep, and fell upon the ground, his body wrought with exertion. His breathing became hoarse.

" _Do it then human…..finish me….I have failed...have you any mercy...end my wretched life."_

She stood there for a moment, staring down at the shaking form of the monster who had been trying to rid her of life for the entirety of the battle. The creature who, a moment ago, would have liked nothing more than to cut her down relentlessly. The sad, alone entity which had made this his life, who was willing to lose his life in failure, who had poured his hopes and dreams into contributing to his people's freedom, and who had failed. Slowly, she extended a hand.

" _Wha...what are you...doing? Kill...me."_

She remained still, hand extended.

" _After all...of this...you would still…"_

The room was quiet.

He extended a hand to meet hers, pulling himself up into a kneeling position. Their eyes met. Her face the picture of mercy, gratitude painted on his.

" _Thank...you...human."_

She saw the change in his face too late. A grim painting of venom laid below his hood. A flash of orange framed her cry of pain, as a dull feeling spread across her torso. Looking down, she saw the slowly expanding bloodstain run around the blade of the rapier. She crumpled backwards, breathing in short, staggered breaths, and rested against the cave wall. In the cave mouth stood another figure, one that had gone unnoticed until now, cast in shadow. She could make out his broad shoulders...flowing robes…...his grim expression.

The world blurred around her, the voices of the figures becoming more and more distant as her eyes began to close. If nothing else, she thought to herself, she had never once betrayed her morals.

Then she was gone.


	2. Patience

**Patience**

The stone floor clacked nicely underfoot. Each step echoing down the barren, grey hallway. Somewhere in the distance, he could hear birds chirping. Before him breathed a tall archway. Beyond, a soft yellow glow radiated. Slowly, carefully, he made his way inside, stopping each few steps to listen. If nothing else, the boy was endlessly patient.

All the way through the underground, through his journey, he had been careful, pensive, holding self control above all else. Each monster he encountered was met with an stoic figure which would move only to evade their attacks. When their frustration or fatigue piqued, they would find themselves countered, struck down in one fatal blow. In his mind, all else was agitated, quick to lose their disposition, and thus easy to outlast.

It was this mindset he fastened to himself as he entered the final room of his journey. Weeds crunched underfoot as the boy's eyes adjusted to the light. Golden flowers covered much of the floor, stunning in the sunlight which poured through the windows. A grand throne sat in the room's zenith, a deep purple cushion flanked by gold trimming, clearly befitting of royalty. Beside the throne knelt a monster, broad shouldered, donning an enormous royal robe, a crown sitting neatly on his head, framed by two large curved horns.

The boy had not been noticed, the gentle sound of secateurs pruning, and the soft humming of the monster filling the room. He took stock of the situation. This was undoubtedly the monster's leader, the one Toriel had warned him of so long ago. So the child waited. He simply stood there, immersing himself in the ambience of the room, biding his time until he was noticed. What would he do from there? The boy had no clue, but he had all the time in the world to think about it.

Eventually the monster rose up with a sigh, laying the secateurs upon the arm of his throne, wiping his forehead. He exhaled deeply as he turned around, calming himself. For a moment, the King's expression was unreadable, a mixture of confusion and surprise playing upon his face. A gasp slipped from his lips, and his visage immediately became grim.

Silence hung in the air.

" _Oh."_

The King adjusted his robe awkwardly.

" _Hello there!...I trust your journey has been exciting? This must all be so new for you."_

The King tried his best smile, a facade of warmth; shallow and illegitimate.

Silence reigned again.

" _I see. …. Are you aware of what happens next?"_

The boy nodded his head lightly.

" _Good. Good."_

Silence.

" _Are you ready? If you have any unfinished business, I understand if you wish to go back."_

The boy shook his head.

" _I see._ "

For what seemed an eternity, they stared at one another, unblinking.

" _Are you sure you have no loose ends? No friends to bid farewell….no….family?_ "

He shook his head.

" _Alright. When you are ready, step forward."_

Sweat ran down the King's forehead as the boy took a slow, tentative step forward.

" _Human. Your journey is finally over….I'm sorry."_

The King's eyes fell, his crown slipping down over them. For what he was about to do, he could not bear meet the child's eyes. He reached into his robe, pulling out a large red trident in the blink of an eye.

The boy simply stood there, staring at the King, at the monster who refused to meet his sight. Not for a moment doubting himself.

The King noticed that the child had not moved. His mouth ran dry, sweat piling on his forehead as his stomach plummeted. Hands trembling, his trident flashed blue. In a lethal arc, he brought it down at the child, passing harmlessly through him. He breathed out a short, staggered, fearful sigh of relief.

Yet the boy did nothing. Standing still. Simply waiting for the King to tire, for his opportunity.

The King looked upon the child once more, lip trembling. He had still not moved. Fearful, his trident flashed blue twice more, each strike passing harmlessly through the boy. The King could not bring himself to do anything more. He knew the boy would simply remain still no matter what he did. He didn't want this. If anything, he wanted a fight, someone who would strike back, who would dodge. Not this.

Blue strike after blue strike passed straight through the boy, no other attack even hinted at. So he stayed patient, stayed still, settled in for the long haul, as he had done with all the other monsters. Why should this one be any different?

The King exhaled deeply. His hands trembled more after each swing. The gratification of each missed strike crippled by his sins weighing upon him, the grim recognition of what must eventually happen. He couldn't give it up now. His people had put so much confidence in him, all of their hopes, all of their dreams. This was his duty. It wasn't for him. It wasn't for any voyeuristic pleasure, but for them.

He bit down. raising his trident in the air once more, eyes closed. The cold feeling of a single teardrop running down his face was all that accompanied him.

The trident flashed orange.


	3. Bravery

**Bravery**

He brushed the dust off of his knuckles and tightened his bandana. Snow crunched underfoot, leaving a deep trench behind him as he walked, kicking his boots hard. The monsters had long realised that he not one to be trifled with. Each met similar fate. They would approach, they would fight, they would die. Monsters died easily, and everyone knew they didn't really have feelings, so guilt was never on his mind.

That said, when they looked at him, begged him for their life, begged to be spared, he would indeed hesitate. But in the end, they were nothing but a challenge, and if there was one thing the boy was, it was brave.

Still, fighting was tiring...bordering on boring for the boy, a concept he never thought he could have felt. Loneliness hung in the air. Even the birds had abandoned him. If it weren't for the deep scar he was leaving on the snow, he could have sworn he was going in circles. Every tree looked alike; snow draped, leafless and humourless. Ever since he had left the Ruins all he had done was fight and walk, fight and walk. If only that old goat could see him now, he thought to himself, a small smile crossing his lips. He never had trusted her. All of her gentle nonsense flew in one ear and out the next for the boy. For a moment he had considered fighting her. But he had eyed her up, saw the fear she held over the other monsters, and figured that was a clash he was not destined to win. He had snuck out when she fell asleep. Leaving behind nothing but a smooth trail of dust.

The boy eventually stumbled onto a path. While he had tried to avoid paths when he had first set out, he sighed as he realised that, likely traps or not, he would have to follow it, lest be doomed to an eternity of aimless wandering. Turning left, he began to make his way down the trail, stretching and bending around the forest for as far as his eyes could see. He looked at his feet. There was still no sound less the crunch of his boots in the snow, the ambience still dead silent.

His mind elsewhere, the boy wandered into a wall, stumbling backwards and raising his fists in surprise. Upon closer inspection, it appeared to be somewhat more of a sentry station, incoherent writing scrawled on the front, a bell sitting neatly on the counter. From within, a startled bark erupted. The boy took another step back as the head of a large dog rose upwards, black fur covering the top of his face, the rest a snow encrusted, clean white.

" _Did something move? Is someone there? If something bumped into my station, it MUST have been moving. SOMETHING! Whatever you are! Absolutely NO MOVING!"_

The boy chuckled, tightening his gloves around his wrist. He swung his fist at the dog, striking it hard in the side of the head. It whined.

" _So THERE you are!"_

The dog flicked it's blue glowing knife in a shallow arc directly across the boy's chest. The boy panicked, trying to sidestep the attack, catching it directly across his chest as he realised too late it was too large to weave. He cried out in pain, blood dripping lightly from his mouth as the gash on his torso stabbed dully at his nerves, draining his bravery. He fell backwards, half sitting on the path in front of the sentry station. The dog squinted, casting its eyes around once more.

" _SOMETHING! Are you still there? Are you still moving? If you are something, please move."_

The boy's breathing became laboured, clutching his wound in fear. Eyes slowly losing hope.

The dog slowly descended back into it's station, blade still dripping with the child's blood. For a while, the boy sat there, watching his blood drain into the snow, dyeing it a deep crimson. Coughing, he slammed his fist into the ground and began to stand. " _I'm not going to die here."_ he reassured himself " _Ill get help, Ill get help...Ill get.."_

The boy propped himself against a tree and began to stagger off further down the path. His vision shook, fear and pain clutching his chest equally. His mind was shot, blurry shapes forming and reforming in his mind. His family, his friends, the monsters he had killed, their looks of fear, their desperation. " _Ill be fine..Ill be fine...Ill...Ill"._ He could feel the blood running from his mouth.

Someone was walking towards him on the path. A tall, broad figure. Bigger in stature than any other monster he had met. His face faded in and out of focus as he approached. The child collapsed at his feet, grabbing onto the corner of his robe, looking up at his face.

" _Hel...help me...please"_ the boy choked out, agony and desperation painted on his profile in blood.

In focus, the face looked back in fear.

Out of focus.

In focus, the face looked closer at the child.

Out of focus

In focus, the figure looked upon the child in deep sorrow.

Out of the corner of his eyes, the boy saw flowers fall from the figure's hand onto the snow, his other hand placed on the child's back. The figure knelt down, bringing the boy closer into his chest. He was warm, that much the boy could feel. The face was comforting...his voice, so distant, so blurred.

" _I'm not going...to die...I'm brave…..I'm not going…..I'm….brave….I'm"_

The boy felt a shiver run down the monster, still cradling him in his arms.

" _You are. You most certainly are."_ came the monster's voice.

The boy's eyes slowly drifted shut.

Then he was gone.


	4. Kindness

**Kindness**

A warm breeze blew past the boy, leaving a staggered trail of cinders in the air. The heat was aggressive, but the boy was used to it. If anything, it reminded him of the great stoves back home. It played upon his nostalgia, dragging him back in time.

He smiled. " _Hotland...what a fitting name for such a place."_ Lava lapped dully at the bottom of the platform he stood on. He stared out for a moment over the great lava lake, it's popping, gurgling presence, the fulfilling splash and sizzle that rose up as pieces of the cavern ceiling collapsed into the ever hungry beast.

All so familiar.

An eerie feeling of familiarity had accompanied the child through the underground. It kept him sane, kept him walking, kept him valiant. Most of all, it kept him kind.

Back in the Ruins, he had not struggled against Toriel as she kept a close eye on him, gripped him slightly harder than perhaps she should have, and told him stories of the dangers which lay outside. Of ASGORE. He had not tried to escape, to run, to fight, but instead lived with the monster. Each day he woke up, listened to her stories, helped her cook, showed her recipes and complimented her efforts. Over time they became close friends. Toriel could see right through the boy, as he could see through her. Such as it came to be that when he told her he wished to go home to his family, only tears flowed. She made no effort to stop him, but told him to stay kind, to make friends, to avoid those who seeked his demise.

So he had.

The boy talked his way through the underground. Countering violence and relentless attacks with compliments and encouragement. He knew that it was a hard life for monsters. Their hopes were held together by threads of belief, their dreams seemingly becoming further each day. He knew that in an underground of regularity, they needed to feel special. They needed to feel like something. Some were easier than others, but all eventually fell to the child's endless kindness. He had no dust on his hands, no sins on his conscience, instead boasting countless friends. It was through this that he had come to learn much about the underground. He knew of ASGORE, his plans, his desires...his...history. But the boy refused to accept that there was someone who could not be reasoned with, who could not be given mercy through merit of encouragement. And so, in the face of countless warnings, he continued on towards home.

Hotland was a mess of elevators and platforms. Precarious cliffs falling dozens of feet into the lava below representing quite the palpable threat. Still the boy continued on, wiping the sweat off of his forehead as he began to walk again. In truth, it could most kindly be described as a ghost town, dusty rocks crumbling as the boy walked. The constant gurgling of the lava pool and the distant mechanical whirr of the core encouraged the boy onwards, seemingly beckoning that his journey was nearly at an end.

He stopped on another cliffside, staring off at the CORE, a looming, dark figure in the distance. The countless pipes and metal parts constantly shifting before his eyes, a rubix cube that could never be solved.

" _Quite beautiful...isn't it?"_ piped in a deep voice from beside the boy.

The boy remained still, catching the sight of the monster in his periphery. Tall, broad shouldered, a purple robe flowing from his shoulders. His heart raced as he realised who he was standing beside.

The child told ASGORE that all of the underground was beautiful in it's own right.

He could see a warm smile spread out across the King's face.

" _You are certainly right. However, I prefer to stay away from Waterfall, water does awful things to ones fur."_

The boy turned to the King, smiling back at him.

" _It is worth it. Waterfall I mean. Just to see the stars. To remind myself of what they look like."_ Asgore said, face slipping slightly as he looked back into the distance.

They stood there for a moment.

" _I have heard all about you human."_

The boy looked at Asgore quizzically.

" _News travels quickly in the underground. I know of your kindness, your care for every monster. You are not like the other humans are you?"_

The boy thought about this for a moment, before turning to Asgore once more, telling him that not every human was a murderer, just as not every monster is.

The King's face did not change.

" _You certainly are special, Human. Perhaps, if we had met at a different time, on a different day, you could have been our future, our salvation."_ Asgore closed his eyes. " _Your kindness is certainly admirable. But…. Part of me wishes you had never even tried."_

The boy looked questioningly at Asgore again. He asked the King what he meant by that.

" _You have made a lot of friends. I presume they have told you about me, about my plans for freedom."_

He nodded, heart racing in anticipation.

" _Then I trust you know what I must do next?"_

The boy stopped. He asked Asgore why it was destined to be a ' _must'_.

Asgore held his eyes shut. Silence hung once more.

" _It….just would have made this much easier."_

The King turned to face the child entirely, blocking the way forward. In his left hand he held a glowing red trident. The boy could no longer see his eyes.

" _Thank you human, for being so kind. I'm sorry."_

The boy raised his frying pan to block Asgore's first stab. The trident slid off against the pan, leaving three deep trenches in it.

The boy told Asgore that he didn't want to fight him. He could hear him take a deep breath.

Magical fire rained from Asgore's hands upon the child in broad, imprecise lines. The boy held the frying pan above his head, feeling it heat up as the fire siphoned itself into the metal, until it began to burn his hands. Crying out, the boy let the pan fall, watching it plummet far off the side of the cliff.

The child stared at Asgore, trying to meet his gaze, firmly telling him to stop fighting. He could see his hands start to tremble.

His trident flashed red. The boy dove away from the swing, feeling it catch the back of his heel as he fell. His leg flashed in agony, tears rushing to his eyes.

The boy ripped off his apron, wrapping it around his ankle as blood started to surface. He looked up at Asgore, pleading with him to stop fighting, that he never wanted to hurt anyone, that there had to be a different way.

Asgore's body shook. He raised his trident in both hands above the boy, his face briefly coming into view, lit by the distant lava. Water really did do awful things to Asgore's fur.

The boy gazed up at the King one last time.

" _Please"_

Asgores face fell out of view once more. The trident fell.

The last thing the boy could remember was the sound of the trident being tossed aside, clanking unnaturally against the rock covered floor. A biting pain ripped at his torso as he was gently lowered to the ground by the King of all monsters. A poor, defenseless creature.

The boy's home drifted into view. All of his friends he had made, human and monster. The great stoves, the songs, the dances. It all seemed so simple.

Then he was gone.


	5. Perseverance

**Perseverance**

She looked up from her notebook, gently kicking at the river which lapped at her shins. Her doodles, her writings trying to act as a net, trapping her very surroundings in simple dots of ink. She straightened her glasses, and scrunched up her face. No matter how she tried, she couldn't quite capture the visage of the castle. How it glowed with a grand incandescence in the distance, framed by the sparkling stars ingrained in the cavern ceiling. It taunted her that she could not do it justice, that she seemed incapable of representing it's beauty. Re-adjusting her glasses, she tore the page out of her notebook and crumpled it up, setting it beside her as she set pencil to paper once more. " _I can always try again"_ she thought to herself, beginning the sketch once more.

She had been holding the notebook when she fell, and hadn't released it yet. She remembered crying at first. Her glasses were cracked, darkness surrounded her, only the golden flowers she was sitting upon provided comfort. That was before She appeared. She...Toriel, had lit the cavern with fire magic, looking upon the child with a look of hope and fear mixed together. She had not released the child's hand as she led her home. No monster came close to Toriel or the child. None dared. Toriel had showed her her new room, had reflexively patted her head, and had not let her out of her sight. The child stayed with her. For how long, she did not know, but by the end she was certainly used to her bed, to Toriel's worried stare, her neuroticism. Each day the child had listened to the monster, taking notes not only of what she was taught, but how Toriel acted, what she spoke of the rest of the underground, the dangers of the monsters. Eventually the child had asked Toriel how she would get home. She had frozen. Told her she was already home. Told her to remain in her room. That night, she could hear soft sobbing fill the house.

But she persevered.

Each day she asked Toriel at the end of their studies whether she could go home. Each day Toriel refused. The child did not argue, did not rebel, but listened, took notes, milled it over. One day, Toriel caved. She told the girl that if she truly wanted to leave, she would not let her go to her death as so many others had. She taught her everything she knew about the monsters, about the underground, about ASGORE. Most importantly, how he fought. Still, the child took notes.

Without those notes, she would never have made it to Waterfall. She had learned what to expect from monsters. How they attacked, how they reacted to different actions. How to avoid not only killing them, but from being killed by them. Such it was that every conflict she found herself in she defused, expertly dodging their strikes, carrying out the moves she had rehearsed countless times in her head. Even when she was struck, she had thorough plans, strategies, and could recover flawlessly. She had killed none, and had no intention of doing so.

The child breathed out a deep, relieved sigh. She had finally finished her sketch. She had finally captured the beautiful profile before her. She savoured the moment. Eventually she stood, pulling on her shoes and beginning to walk once more, hugging her notebook to her chest. It was a beautiful region, sparkling, calming, careless. Back with Toriel, she had considered simply staying in the underground, living her life as she would on the surface, but with monsters as her friends rather than humans. She had dispelled that thought from her mind, knowing that when she had fallen, she had wanted nothing more than to return home, and she wasn't going to give up on that.

It was deeply interesting to the girl that Waterfall could feel so claustrophobic, but stretch so high up into the darkness of the ceiling. Yet life bloomed, echo flowers sprouting and chattering away as she passed, great tufts of grass rising from the floor, thick as they were tall, bridge flowers blubbing softly in the waters, forming a living crossing. She made her way into the grass, softly pushing aside the larger fronds as she picked carefully through it. At the other end yawned a cave mouth, glowing crystals beckoning from beyond it. She continued to walk, the luminescence of the crystals both beautiful and intriguing, she made another note as they pulsed wave after wave of light into the room. In the end, she found herself at the foot of a short mountain within the mountain. It proved to be more of an archway, expanding off into the distance, twisting off out of view. Still she walked onwards, knowing that with each step, she was coming closer to her freedom. She smiled to herself, thinking to herself about everything she had done to get here, confident that nothing could surprise her, that she had every monster's number, even ASGORE.

She passed through the archway, taking the first corner. A large electronic sign buzzed beside her; " _Welcome to Hotland"_. Indeed she could already feel the first hints of warmth on her face, could see the hints of a deep red glow ahead, could hear the bubbling of lava begin to overwhelm the sound of water flowing behind her.

It was then she realised she wasn't alone on the path. A broad figure stared back at her, backlit by the radiating light of Hotland, robe closed and face solemn.

The girl flipped through her notebook, hands shaking slightly. She put her finger on the page detailing all Toriel had told her about ASGORE, and had not a doubt in her mind that this was him. Anticipation flared within her as she approached the figure.

" _Hello A...Asgore."_ she said simply, eyes still wandering to her notes.

The King raised his head, a small, facade of a smile painted across his lips.

" _Howdy! It's so nice to finally meet someone else who shares my love of reading . Have you ever been to Snowdin's Library? It is definitely worth a visit while you are in the underground."_

The King's face looked so….endearing….on the surface. Below, she could see a man whose hand was forced, who, no matter how hard he tried, could not rid his mind of what he would have to do.

She ran her eyes over her notes once more, closing the book.

" _Yes...actually, I went through it on my way here. The selection of books was not ideal, but I certainly learned a lot."_

" _Perhaps you wish to return there before proceeding further. I would understand it you.."_

" _I know much about you...King Asgore."_ the child interrupted " _I know what you have done to the other humans who have fallen down here, I know what you are going to try to do to me. You should know that I'm not going to fight you."_

The King blinked in surprise.

" _Um….well you see...I was just saying that if you wish to go back, to appreciate the underground any more before…."_

He noticed the way she was looking at him. Asgore sighed deeply.

" _Human. It was nice to find someone who shared my love of books. If we could have had more time to discuss, perhaps we would have been good friends."_ Asgore drew his trident slowly. " _Goodbye."_

The girl opened her notebook and straightened her glasses.

She knew what he would start with.

He lashed out with the spear, attempting to stab at the girl. Her notes ran through her head, her endless revision. She took a nimble step to her left, briskly avoiding the thrust. His eyes fell to the floor as she shook her head, clasping her notebook tighter.

Magical fire erupted from Asgore's hands, raining down upon the girl. But still she took her time, remembered her notes, and nimbly dodged each fireball. She shook her head once more as his attack finished.

His trident flashed red, swinging it in a broad motion at the child. She ducked, the weapon whizzing harmlessly overhead. She shook her head.

So it continued, each blow revised, memorised and avoided in turn. Asgore's face ran with sweat, body trembling with agony at each new moment the fight continued. If he could land one hit it would be over. But he could not. Each swing she avoided, each chance she had to strike back she simply shook her head. He was….predictable. Asgore grimaced. He hated himself more with each second. He wanted this to be over, regardless of how it ended. An idea flashed in his mind.

The girl continued to dodge, Asgore becoming visibly weaker over time. If she had wanted, she could have struck back, crippled the king in this fatigued state, but she refused. This was not what she had worked for. But her knowledge spread only so far.

Great rings of fire materialised around the girl, slowly spinning towards her. He brain raced. This wasn't in her notes. Toriel had never told her about this. No One had ever told her about this. Panicked, confused, she attempted to duck underneath a ring of fire, finding it spin downwards into her, leaving raw burns on her skin as she stumbled backwards. The next ring spun towards her legs, trapping them and causing her to fall to the ground, crying out in pain. Her notebook slid away from her, her glasses falling off of her face. Her mind became cloudy. She couldn't see anything, she couldn't remember anything she had written down, she couldn't avoid anything with this pain.

She looked up at Asgore, his trident flashed somewhere in the distance, a colour she couldn't quite discern. She tried to remain still, and praying the flash be blue. She cried out into the darkness as it descended, begging Asgore with every fibre of her being to let her live, to stop his assault. To have mercy.

She guessed wrong.

Shock ran through her body. She couldn't feel a thing and couldn't decide whether that was a good or a bad thing. She could hear the gentle gushing of water somewhere far away, the sparkling tinkle of the stars in the underground, Toriel's homely humming. The sounds of someone sobbing.

Then she was gone.


	6. Justice

**Justice**

The boy sighed. He gazed down the deep hole that spread before him. Piles of garbage distant silhouettes below, the rushing of the waterfall at his feet pleasantly echoing around the cavern. He slowly opened the cylinder of the revolver he carried. It was empty. He knew he had left empty cartridges laden throughout the underground. The six original shots long gone. In his other hand sat his cowboy hat, cheap leather, a child's toy. Where nothing else had, these two items had accompanied him so closely throughout the underground. They had been his salvation, his freedom, his survival on too many occasions to count. But at what cost? The monsters feared him. the thunderclap of the revolver's shot the loudest thing many had ever heard in their lives. Pure terror incarnate, and put in the hands of someone they could never trust. He was alone, so alone. He was the person he never wanted to be. Back on the surface, he was the hero, he was always the hero, that's how he played, that's who he was. Down here he was the bandit, the outlaw, the villain, just waiting for the right monster to bring the rest of the underground their happy ending. And he hated it.

When he had first fallen, he was scared. His heart covered in strands of dread, the inherent hopelessness of the unknown. For a while he had simply cried out into the darkness. But nobody came. Eventually he had stood, shaken himself off, and decided who he was going to be, an intrepid explorer, a paragon of justice in a brand new world. So he had marched onwards, the overgrown brick cavern walls his only company. The echoing of distant life his orchestra. His first bullet was spent in the Ruins. A large frog had leapt at him from the shadows, trying to fight him. In fear, he had pulled the trigger. The face of the monster screamed shock for only a moment before it simply crumbled into dust. The bellow of the gunshot seemed sentient, imposing itself in each brick, each corner, each fibre of the Ruins, threatening swift death to any who approached. The boy had stood there in shock, dropping the empty bullet casing upon the ground. As he continued further, he began to notice the eyes of monsters from all angles. He saw them slink away into the shadows, hiding each other from the human, trying desperately not to meet his eyes. He had learned all his life that monsters had no feelings. So then why did he hate himself so much?

Eventually, he reached a small house at the end of the Ruins. It was pleasant enough, if a little lifeless. It looked to be the only place in the Ruins which was kept clean, was kept alive. Inside sat an old monster, one that did not flee from the boy, but simply sat in her chair, looking at the fire. The boy had greeted her. Her head turned, and for a moment, recollection flashed in her eyes, then excitement, then sadness. She looked back to the fire. The boy had asked her name. She had laughed lightly to herself. She told the boy that she wished that she could get her hopes up, that she wished that the boy would listen to her if she told him to stay here with her, but knew he wouldn't. He had asked her what she meant by that. She addressed the boy directly. She told him that she knew that he, like all the other humans, would leave, that they would walk and walk until they met ASGORE, then they would die. She told him that no matter what they tried, they could never beat him, even being as kind as they possibly could. She told him that she knew he would never stay, and that if he was going to leave, to not give ASGORE mercy, as she knew that the second he did, he was vulnerable. The boy had listened to her intently, painting Asgore as the real villain in his mind. He was on a quest to stop the evil ruler of the underground, the killer of humans, the dead to rights murderer. He assured her that no matter what, he would see that Asgore was never to commit a crime again. She stood, hugging the boy as tightly as she could, before leading him by the hand down to the exit to the Ruins. She told him that killing Asgore would be just as bad as what he had performed, that violence should never beget violence. He nodded, opening the door to the Ruins, and stepping out into the icy depths of the underground.

He could remember where each and every bullet he spent laid. Two in Snowdin as he was accosted by a monster in the woods, and a member of the so called "Royal guard" further down the path. Then Snowdin was a ghost town. The other three had been spent in Waterfall. Two as more Royal Guardsmen had appeared to stop him, and one in fear at the screams of an echo flower. He had met no one else in Waterfall.

Still he stared down into the pit. His gun...his one weapon, had done him no good. Had made him the bad guy. His hat reminded him too much of the looks the monsters gave him, the pleads they made as he came close. the fear in their eyes. With a deep breath, he released both, watching them plummet deep into the abyss, joining the piles of garbage which lay at it's base. He exhaled. From this point onwards, he was the hero. He wasn't the murderous human who needed to be stopped by Royal Guardsmen, but was instead the salvation of the underground. The dethroner of a murderous king.

He kept walking. Still monsters shied from him, avoided his gaze, disappeared into shadow. None dared come close. He smiled at them, greeted them, complimented them, but everstill they disappeared. Each failure staining upon his soul, dragging him further from the light he had envisioned. He passed through Waterfall, into Hotland, all the way to the Core, all the while ignored, feared, stigmatised. By the time he reached the large hotel, he was hopeless. He knew he was the bad guy, for the very first time in his life. He hated it, he hated the monsters for what they had made him, but most of all, he hated himself.

It was at the entrance to the CORE that he encountered Asgore. He stood there, in full glinting armour, a large trident resting in his left hand. Their eyes met.

" _Human. Are you the one I have heard so much about?_ " he said in a deep, yet kind voice.

The boy nodded, looking at his feet, heart too crushed to feel anything but a deep disappointment. He was standing here, being lectured to by the last proficient fighter of the underground. Presumably far behind him there were dozens of monsters hiding, the innocent monsters ASGORE was protecting. The hero.

The King adjusted his trident in his hands, looking deeply uncomfortable.

" _So you are the one who has been…"_

The boy nodded, eyes still pointed at the ground.

" _And you did this on purpose?"_

The boy hesitated. He certainly knew what pulling the trigger would do. He certainly knew the ramifications of his weapon. But did he do it on purpose? He did it on instinct absolutely. He saw the threat and acted back. If he could have seen any other way, would he have done it? He liked to think he would have. He noticed the King's kind eyes still on him.

The boy shook his head.

" _I see."_

The boy's insides tore at him.

" _Regardless of whether you meant to do it or not, it still comes down to you. The fear that my people hold, the reason they hid from you, you must understand, is all down to you."_

The boy nodded, mouth running dry as a mixture of fear and deep regret ran through him.

" _And from that, you must know what I must do now."_

The boy nodded his head. It was time he supposed for the good guys to get their happy ending.

" _I'm sorry human. Goodbye."_

The King's eyes fell to the floor, pulling back his trident to make the first thrust. The boy simply stood there, tears running down his cheeks, staring at the ground.

Asgore hesitated. He could see the regret painted on the boy's face. He felt for the child. A young boy forced into action, forced into consequences by hasty actions made a great while ago.

His trident wavered in the air for a moment. His hands trembled. He knew what this would mean. This one strike would bring them just one more strike from freedom. He couldn't give up now, his people needed him. He thrust his trident forward. The boy made not a single effort to dodge. Blood stained the walkway, the boy's cry of pain somehow overpowering the din of the CORE.

The boy crumpled. There was not a shadow of a doubt in his mind that this was the end. He lay there. Knowing that if nothing else, he had done what every good villain should do. The good guys, won. Was he any more of a hero now?

Asgore crouched beside the boy. Cradling his head in his hands. Through the pain, the boy choked out this question to him. A single tear landed on the boy's chest.

" _Yes...you always were."_

The boy smiled. The pain was nothing. Sure, tears ran down his face, his throat closed , his mouth dry, but through it all, he was the hero. He was the outcome of justice. That's all he ever wanted.

Then he was gone.


	7. Asgore

**Asgore**

His footsteps echoed down the hallway, each step heavier than the last. As he descended the great staircase, the shadows played tricks on him., reaching with skeletal hands to grab him, laughing at him, looking disgusted. He sighed, slowly lowering the child into the cold, grey coffin. On top of the body lay a small bouquet of golden flowers from his garden. So peaceful. He lifted the lid gently onto the top of the coffin, closing his eyes as the child slowly drifted from view behind it. When the lid was secure, he would pull a slip of paper from his pocket, the child's name written so neatly upon it, and would set to engraving. He would always know the name, there was never a doubt in his mind about that. Monsters would know, one of them would always know, and if they didn't, he would create one for them. He knew he was never the best at naming things, but he could always try.

Sometimes he would go and visit them. He would talk to them. He would tell them about how his garden was growing, about the affairs of the underground, the people's concerns. Their hopes, their dreams.

As if it all made up for it.

As if it made up for every tear. As if it made up for every cry of pain that he had elicited. As if it made up for every look of terror, or slowly fading brightness in their eyes. As if it made up for their weight as he carried them back to New Home.

But it never did.

A dark hole ripped at his stomach. " _What comes next?"_. When the next human falls, what happens afterwards? The come, they meet, they die. Then what? When the barrier is open, will that make anything better? Was he leading his people to their deaths?

These thoughts clung to his mind, eating away at his conscience, a malignant tumour, as painful as it was taunting.

He would sit on his throne, in the centre of his garden, and lose whole days. When a visitor came upon him, he would greet them, put on his best smile. They were his people, they needed him, they didn't need to know any more than what they saw. They didn't ever need to know that he shed a tear for each human, that he still talked to them, that he still felt each of their weights in his arms, that a chill crawled down his back each time he walked past the long staircase.

That he still visited the spots where they had died.

He finished the engraving, wiping sweat from his forehead. There was still a single coffin empty, the lid resting beside it. It had no engraving, no history, no body.

But that was a matter for another day.

Slowly, Asgore stood. He grimly climbed the stairs, the shadows silent for the first time. He looked upon his garden, his throne, heard the distant chirping of birds. His trident rested against it, his crown sitting on top of it. He sighed, sitting down heavily upon the chair. From the hallway he heard the soft clacking of footsteps, and painted a smile upon his face as best he could.

For at the end of the day, that's all he could really do.


End file.
